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COPYRIGHT DEPOSm 




Sterling Boisseau 



THE 



UNION MONUMENT 



AND OTHER POEMS 



BY 

STERLING BOISSEAU 



MANUFACTURED BY 
L. H. JENKINS, RICHMOND, VA. 



.02,7 u ^ 



TRANSFERRED FROM 
COPYRIGHT OFFICE 

HAY 7 1914 



Copyright. 1913 
by Sterling Boisseau 



TO 

KITTV, MY WIFE 

THIS LITTLE VOLUME IS 

AFFECTIONATELY 

DEDICATED 



CONTENTS 











page 


The Union Monument, ....... 9 


The Scar, 








10 


The Time I've Frittered Away, . 








10 


To A Mason, ..... 








. 12 


The Open Pulpit, .... 








12 


Boone, My Dog Companion, . 








13 


A Retiring Summer Girl, 








17 


Reply to "A Retiring Summer Girl,' 








19 


A Corn-Shucking Memory, . 








20 


How Can I Forget Her? (Miss B. ) 








22 


To Miss W., 








. 23 


The 'Possum and the Bear, . 








24 


Lines to Miss Budd, 








25 


The Anti-Kissing Crusade, . 








26 


To Katherine, .... 








27 


To Miss Kemper M , 








28 


All A-Board, .... 








29 


"Teddy," 








30 


The Suffragette, .... 








32 


These Bills, 








33 


Mrs. Carrie Nation, 








34 


A Non-Thrilling Kiss, . 








35 


Temper, 








36 


Success, 








36 


Autumn, ...... 








37 


Scenes of Childhood, .... 








41 




THE UNION MONUMENT 



THE UNION MONUMENT 
AND OTHER POEMS 



THE UNION MONUMENT. 

Are the North and South now united ; 

Has the deep yawning chasm been filled ; 
Are we square the one with the other ; 

The strife of our passions been stilled? 
Do lips speak the heart's true emotions 

As we talk with and speak of each other; 
Are the handshakes the genuine clasping 

That's given by brother to brother? 

Are we willing to show we're united 

By a token that's lasting and grand, 
A monument surpassing all others 

And on it these characters stand? 
Our Washington central in figure, 

Around him four others would be, 
Lincoln and Grant there side by side 

As brothers with Davis and Lee? 

Note. — The writer selects these statesmen and soldiers 
because they were the leaders of the times they represented. 
The CA-USE, not the INDIVIDUAL, is what is in mind. 



THE SCAR. 

A thorn in the flesh — it crept its stealthy way 
Until it lodged right near my throbbing heart, 

And there it held its irritating sway; 

My very heart-strings tore, 'twas loth to part 

Until death's door did seem to be ajar. 

At last it on its tortuous way did go 

Until it passed my nerve-racked body thro'; 

Its progress hellish, by its pace so slow, 
The agony once passed, 'twas then I knew 

That I was free again — but for the scar. 



THE TIME I'VE FRITTERED AWAY. 

Rejoice in thy youth, 3^oung man, thought I ; 

I will not yet think of the morrow, 
Sufficient the day is the evil thereof, 

Then why should I think of its sorrow? 
But, time is now fleeting; I sit here to-day 

Regretting the time I've frittered away. 

I sowed my wild oats of license and sin 

Instead of calm zephyrs I reap the whirlwind, 

10 



Instead of green pastures all's barren and dead, 
Instead of still waters there're breakers ahead; 

Yes, time is now fleeting, I sit here to-day 
Regretting the time I've frittered away. 

I'm weary, cast down, forsaken, alone, 

I've come to myself far away from my home, 

I will arise, to my Father I'll go. 

His pardon I'll ask, oh, may it be so 

That He will receive me, forgive me to-day 
The time I have wasted and frittered away. 



TO A MASON. 

(A Dear Helpful Friend) 

Now, can one be a Mason 

Yet work not in brick nor stone, 
Neither a member of the Craft 

Of wise King Solomon? 
Yes, there is one whose Masonry 

Is work well done in life. 
By whose happy marriage tie 

Became a Mason's wife. 



THE OPEN PULPIT.* 

The "open pulpit," a step for union take. 
Together stand for Christian union's sake, 
For those who hold that they are strongly blest. 
To them the duty be to help the rest; 
Without a union, can we hope to win 
In waging war against that union, sin. 

* Written during the session of the Protestant Episcopal 
Convention in Richmond, Va., in 1907, while the "open pulpit" 
was being considered. The Lord Bishop of London was an 
attendant. 



12 




With me as my lone companion, 
Boone, my dog, for so I named him 
After Daniel Boone, the hunter; 
He would "tree" the nimble squirrel. 
Chase the timid white-tail rabbit. 
And the music of his "crying" 
As he followed hard upon them 
Thrilled me; you must be a huntsman 
To conceive my soul's delight. 



BOONE, MY DOG COMPANION. 

In my youthful thoughts and fancies 
As I wandered through the forest 
I would dream of Hiawatha 
When he, with his bow and arrows, 
13 



Hunted for the famous red-deer. 
But I had no bow and arrows, 
Just a little keen-edged hatchet 
Which by whirling at a distance 
Sink its blade into a tree-trunk. 
Bayonet I sometimes carried 
Dropped as were so many others 
By some gray or blue-clad soldier 
On the Five-Forks battlefield. 
There were many mute reminders 
Of this bloody civil struggle 
Between brothers now united 
To be seen along my wandering. 

With me as my lone companion, 

Boone, my dog, for so I named him 

After Daniel Boone, the hunter; 

He would "tree" the nimble squirrel. 

Chase the timid white-tail rabbit. 

And the music of his "crying" 

As he followed hard upon them 

Thrilled me, you must be a huntsman 

To conceive my soul's delight. 

He would sometimes catch his quarry, 

14 



Ofttimes force them in a hollow 
Tree or log upon the ground ; 
If I could not with my hatchet 
Cut the game from out its hiding, 
Then would I resort to "twisting" 
With a forked stick I'd cut; 
I would home then take the trophy 
Proud as any Hiawatha. 

He was like unto my shadow, 
Went with me in all my rambles 
Where I set the hollow "hare-gums" 
In the paths along the branches 
At the corners of the fences 
Where the wily little varmints 
Gnawed their "gaps" between the rails. 
Often would we have a tussle 
When I took them from their prison. 
These my long-eared "molly-cottons." 

Alas ! my Boone and boon companion 
Fell a-sick with fatal sickness. 
Then alone he to the forest 
Went, and it was there I found him 



IS 



Cold in death, 'twas there I left him 
In his happy hunting ground. 
As I placed the sods upon him 
They were moistened by my weeping. 
Just a dog — but none more faithful — 
I shall never him forget. 

On account of my youth, I was not allowed to carry a gun. 

"Cedar Lane," my home, was on a part of the battlefield of 
the Five-Forks, in Dinwiddie County, Virginia. Guns, bayonets 
and other war material could be found. 

As an infant I laj' on the floor of the house while bullets 
passed through it ; the house was used as a hospital by both the 
Confederates and Federals. 

Like many others, we lost everything movable, such as horses, 
cattle and provisions. 

Some Federal soldier gave my mother one of our own hams 
and a few hardtacks, which was all we had to subsist upon 
except a few "razor back" hogs and a few chickens that man- 
aged to keep out of sight of the army. 



i6 



A RETIRING SUMMER GIRL. 

(Miss H. B.) 

Oh, cruel hour! Oh, horrid fate! 
That made me so disconsolate ; 
The crowded hall, the music gay, 
Had not the power to drive away 

The feeling that beset me. 
Now, would you know the reason why 
I lonely walk and naught but sigh. 
My very soul bereft of fire? 
It is because you did retire 

Last night soon after tea. 

Yet with the return of another day 
My sadness soon was chased away; 
The Sun himself in splendor bright 
Was even eclipsed by my delight, 

The seeing you did make. 
Your majestic smile and comely grace 
Excelled in loftiness the place ;* 

* Mountain Lake, Virginia. 
17 



But, alas ! an arrival did beguile 
From me the pleasure of your smile, 
And I my leave must take. 

Oh, cruel hour! Oh, horrid fate! 
That makes me so disconsolate; 
No crowded hall, no music gay. 
Nor nothing else can drive away 

This feeling that besets me. 
Now, would you know the reason why 
I lonely walk and naught but sigh, 
My ver}^ soul bereft of fire? 
It is because you did retire 

Your humble servant — see? 



i8 



REPLY TO "A RETIRING SUMMER GIRL." 

(Written by Miss H. B.) 

And why, my Sterling friend, Vv^ere you 
The first to bid the Lake adieu? 
You left the merry crowd less gay 
Because you chose to go away. 

And when I came to breakfast late 
And found the rebus on my plate. 
It gave my heart a thrill of pain 
For one I ne'er should see again. 

And yet I smiled to see the boy 
And sterling friend (without alloy), 
For then I knew your heart was light 
The while you vanished from my sight. 

Mountain Lake. 



19 




I am goin' back to the countrj", an' goin' back there to stay, 
It must have been ole Satan that a-conjured me away, 
When the last day comes, an' Gabriel blows his horn 
I want to rise an' answer where I used to shuck the corn. 



A CORN-SHUCKING MEMORY. 

(To the mem.ory of Joe Bland, my grandfather's slave.) 

'Twas at a big" corn shuckin' that I heard this little 

song, 
It has been a-ringin' in my head these many years 

long, 



20 



I thought 'twas awful foolish then, but now I've come 

to know 
'Twas just as true as gospel an' every word was so. 

Chorus. 

"I had a little wife an' couldn't please her, 
I gave her everything that she need. 
Everything that she need was just a teaser, 
'Cause she wanted everything that she seed " 

I was a little nigger then, heart-whole an' fancy free, 
Didn't know the song was speakin' such a pow'ful 

truth to me, 
'Till I married a likely yallow gal, to town we went to 

live. 
She got to pesterin' me for mo', no matter what I give. 

Of all the big fool niggers that draws the breath o' life 
The biggest is the one who takes a hiferlutin' Avife, 
An' goes to town a-thinkin' he can get into the push, 
For downright on'ry fool he takes the rag from off the 
bush. 



21 



I am goin' back to the country, an' goin' back there lo 

stay, 
It must have been ole Satan that a-conjured me away. 
When the last day comes, an' Gabriel blows his horn 
I want to rise an' answer where I used to shuck the 

corn. 

Copyrighted 1908. Set to music, but not published. 



HOW CAN I FORGET HER? (Miss B.) 

'Twas at a dance I met her. 

Oh, how can I forget her? 
So charming, so bewitching and so sweet, 

I made her my best bow. 

Did all that I knew how 
To perpetuate with her this pleasant meet. 

Since then I've seen her often 

And my heart it grew to soften 
Towards this ideal girl and her alone. 

When I asked did she forget 

The time when first we met, 
Said yes, in a calm, indifferent tone. 



22 



I abruptly said good-night, 

And in this saddened plight 
Wandered aimlessly as one who's in a trance, 

At last I reached my home 

And sat for hours alone 
Thinking o'er the wasted efforts at that dance. 

As I tossed upon my pillow 

Just like some angry billow 
Which carries along destruction, death and woe. 

My brain all in a whirl 

About this ideal girl ; 
Oh, how can I forget her — never — no! 



TO MISS W. 

Charleston, S. C. 

Oh, unsolved problem, no genius can 
The ways of woman understand ; 
There's one of whom with one consent 
Was said to have no sentiment ; 
Great metamorphosis, I start. 
To find that she is now all HART. 



23 



THE 'POSSUM AND THE BEAR. 

The 'Possum come, the Bear has gone, 

The 'Possum has the day; 
The Bear he said it was his will, 

And chased himself away ; 
Then to the jungle he did go 

De-e-lighted to his fill ; 
We hope he'll have a safe return 

And be de-e-li2:hted still. 



Written soon after Mr. Taft had attended the 'Possum 
Dinner, and Mr. Roosevelt had gone to the jungles of Africi 
to hunt. 



24 



LINES TO MISS BUDD. 

I've prayed to, entreated and courted the Muse 
To inspire me once more and my mind to enthuse 
That I may be able to freely indite 
Some lines in reply to your poetical flight. 
But, alas, my efforts have all been in vain. 
For the Muse only visits me with her disdain. 

Thus forsaken I wandered from mountains to sea 
In search of some power that would cause me to be 
Inspired, if but partly, that I might thus show 
That "Barkis is willin'," but find it's no go; 
The poetical mill, for me grinds not at all. 
Which leaves me as poet exceedingly small. 

In great desperation of the Muse I demanded 
The reason she left me so terribly stranded, 
Said "all of my power have I given to one 
Who thus will outshine the bright noonday sun ; 
Of the poetical river, you are the mud. 
Its bright, sparkling water is charming Miss 
Budd." 



25 



THE ANTI-KISSING CRUSADE. 

Here comes a new departure from the W. C. T. U., 

To inaugurate a war against our kissing; 
Now this is just outrageous, is a pretty howdy-do, 

Should be greeted with the most emphatic hissing. 
What! Stop this osculation that's handed down to us, 

Time-honored, soul-inspiring, divinely taught? 
Amend the proposition, reserve the fight and fuss 

For the fellow when he happens to be caught. 



26 



TO KATHERINE. 

What Katherine gets within her head 

Is always there to stay, 
Like Medes and Persians, what she wills 

Must only be that way; 
Yet, when she gets within her pate, 

Or, I should say, her tresses, 
A little matter such as dust 

Her sovereign will digresses ; 
She then will lave and comb and brush 

To change her head's condition, 
And do it too in spite of all 

On earth or in perdition. 

A real Mede and Persian she 

I glory in the part. 
So constant and infixible 

Her true and loving heart. 

A lady on washing her hair on a cold, damp day. 



27 



TO MISS KEMPER M- 



Referring to our talk of a few days ago, 

I made you a promise, and now I will show 

That I was in earnest, altho' somewhat late. 

In doing what I said, I hope that my fate 

Will not be to vex you, or ruffle your temper. 

For that wouldn't become my dear "sister Kemper." 

The gift that I send you, as you'll see at a glance, 
Is not one of beauty, but then the dance 
Must answer for that, I hope you'll not frown 
Upon this result of the floors in your town ; 
Altho' it's inanimate with reverence I hold 
That those village dances nearly cost it its sole. 

In conclusion, I'll say not all of the blame 
Should be charged to the dance or floors, for it 

came 
To Burkeville for far a much greater attraction 
Beside which all others are just mites or a fraction; 
So take it and keep it, 'twas you, only you, 
That caused it to be Preston's cast-off old shoe. 



A worn-out dancing slipper sent Miss M. as a reminder of 
Preston B. 

28 



ALL A-BOARD. 

(Administrative Board.) 

"All aboard !" is shouted. We're now going to ride, 
The engineman 's at the throttle, and the fireman's by 

his side ; 
The flagman 's in position, with his signals close at 

hand. 
And the porter stands ready as the captain's handy 

man. 
To make the journey safely, will largely depend 
On the chief car inspector's ability and men. 
Should on this excursion disaster befall. 
Use Balm of Referendum bv Dr. Recall. 



A new Administrative Board of five members just taking up 
their duties, and compared with a train's crew of five. 



29 



"TEDDY." 

No use to ask who 's "Teddy," for you know 
Where you find him there you also find the show, 
With the great or with the humble, 
Or with varmints in the jungle. 
They do always to him tumble, 
Don't you know ! 

He is lynx-eyed and can see all things, you know. 
Talks the language of the tropics or the snow. 
There is nothing he can't pick up, 
No hookworm in his make-up, 
And he never had a hiccup. 
Don't you know ! 

He totes about a big stick, don't you know; 
He can walk a mile a minute, even so. 
And when it comes to fighting. 
Or a little stunt at writing, 
Why, at each he goes a-kiting. 
Don't you know ! 



30 



He's a-coming from the big hunt, don't you know, 
With his trophies from the regions high and low, 
Oh, that he'd stop his slaying. 
Some are hoping, some are praying. 
But watch him do some flaying, 
Don't you know ! 

So come along, our Teddy,* come along. 
We '11 meet you and we '11 greet you with a song; 
We are waiting, we are ready, 
For our only, only Teddy, 
Who is sturdy, strong and steady, 
Don't you know ! 

* Mr. R., on his return from his African hunt. 



31 



THE SUFFRAGETTE. 

Lee's birthday — and what do we behold ! 

Virginia's statehouse crowded, overflowing, bless your 

soul; 
The "gentler sex" pleading the right of vote to get, 
"Marse Robert" might not know them by the name of 

suffragette. 
But the times have changed, "everlooted," so they say, 
And they must be more manly than they were in his 

day; 
They '11 get their equal rights and all things else 

beside, 
For they are marching onward and are riding now 

astride ; 
Some day we '11 call them uncle and papa, too, you 

bet. 
There will be no limitation to the blooming suffra- 
gette. 

Written January 21, 1912.— Lee's Birthday. 



32 



THESE BILLS. 

When into the world we come, 

Bills; 
When we go, and life is done — 

Bills; 
They poke them to us at the door, 
And thro' the mails they come galore, 
And they make us very sore, 

Bills. 

If Mr. Bryan we elect — 

A Bill; 
If Mr. Taft we should select — 

A Bill; 
It is very evident 
That on Bills our minds are bent. 
Even our next President — 

A Bill. 



S3 



MRS. CARRIE NATION. 

She has no great big ugly stick to coax to subjugation 

Those who kick against the pricks of proper regula- 
tion; 

Another weapon she can wield, and with it beat 
creation, 

It has the "big stick" skinned to death, which is no 
fabrication ; 

Tobacco fiends, as well as soaks, lookout, or you will 
catch it, 

So peel your eye, and be prepared to dodge her little 
hatchet. 



34 



A NON-THRILLING KISS. 

She was tall, handsome, graceful — an angel minus 
wings. 

Was perfection just so far as he had traced, 
She was dearer than a sister 
Until he went and kissed her; 

She thrilled not, and his love became effaced. 

Said she, "You horrid man, 

I can this no longer stand ; 

You kissed me ; it was much against my will ; ( ?) 

In a way I did my best ; 

You should have done the rest, 

And then you could have had your little thrill." 

"You say your race is run. 
You'll face the setting sun* 

Then go, I'm as mad as I can be; 
When you kiss another girl 
I hope she '11 thro' you whirl 

A thrill of deadly electricity." 

*Went to live in the far West. 



35 



TEMPER. 

Temper, we may have in a great or less degree, 
We can check or give it rein, just as the case may be; 
Then by God's grace subdue it, and you will be blest, 
An unbridled temper truly can cause so much unrest. 

May 31, 1909. 
By permission of the publishers of The Simmons Magazine. 

SUCCESS. 

Nothing succeeds like success 
. One ofttimes hears and true, 
But what must be the first success. 

What first thing must one do? 
Make riches, fame, or just a name 

To stand you where you be. 
Yes, these are well, yes, to be sure, 

But, think a while and see 
If 'tis not best to start close by 

To make your first success. 
And conquer self, thy master be, 

Let it be nothing less. 

June 10, 1909. 
By permission of the publishers of The Simmons Magazine. 

36 




The season of harvest, the season of plenty. 



AUTUMN. 

Say not that Autumn is the year's saddest season 
If flowers do then wither and leaves fall and die; 

Show they not in passing their greatest perfection 
In fragrance and brightness, then why should we 
sigh ? 

So peacefully falling, so gently returning 

To mother-earth's bosom with nothing of strife. 

In glory the living, twice glory the parting, 
Grand glory the ending — a well-spent life. 



Z7 



The season of harvest, the season of plenty, 

The season of rest from the toil and the fray, 
The crown of our making, is ours for the taking, 

What crown have we made for the blest Autumn 
day? 
If we have been like them in Spring-time and Summer 

Shed fragrance, made happier our fellow-man's 
heart, 
And thus leave behind us so pleasant a mem'ry, 

Grand glory the ending when we come to part. 

By permission of the publishers of The Simmons Magazine. 



38 



Published in booklet form in 1909 



TO THE LOVING MEMORY OF MY 

FATHER AND MOTHER 

THESE LINES ARE DEDICATED 



SCENES OF CHILDHOOD. 

Can you tell me with what feelings 
You walk midst scenes of childhood, 
Be they grand or unpretentious ; 
In the hills or on the lowlands; 
Have you left their hallowed precincts, 
Cast your lot in other places, 
After years of absentation, 
Wend your footsteps back among them? 

Whate'er be your disposition, 
Practical or sentimental, 
Whate'er in life be your station. 
High or lowly, rich or poor, 
Here we meet as common brothers 
In our hearts a common feeling 
Beat our hearts a common beating, 
When amidst the scenes of home. 

Many places ne'er forgotten 
Here in Nature's lavish store, 



41 



S-^>^^: 




Many places ne'er forgotten 
Here in Nature's lavish store, 
Well it is to go among them 
With our sacred meditations. 



42 



Well it is to go among them 
With our sacred meditations 
Undisturbed by din of traffic 
In the marts of man's creation, 
Here to hold our sweet communion 
In the court of Nature's Temple. 

Here you see the gate or hedgeway, 
Or, perhaps, it be a line-tree 
On whose trunk are telling gashes 
Saying in surveyor's language 
That the home-place of your childhood 
Is divided from your neighbor's; 
Often have you passed this landmark 
'Mid the hallowed scenes of home. 

As you go through fields and woodland 
What a train of thoughts beset you. 
Thoughts of gladness, thoughts of sadness, 
As you tread familiar ground ; 
Yet, there are so many changes. 
That the outer eye perceiveth 
But, the changes that are greatest 
Are the ones now lost to view. 



43 




Here the winding, rippling brooklet, 
Teeming with its little minnows. 
Where you fished with just a pin-hook, 
Crooked pole and line of thread ; 



44 



Here the winding, ripping brooklet, 
Teeming with its Httle minnows, 
Where you fished with just a pin-hook, 
Crooked pole and line of thread ; 
Every path and nook and corner 
Brings to you some recollection 
Of the happy days of childhood, 
Happy days of long ago. 

If among the scenes of childhood 
You perchance may go no more. 
You can visit them in spirit 
And be all the better for it, 
Wander thus among old places. 
Think of dear, departed faces, 
Yes, you'll be the better for it 
Going o'er the scenes of home. 

Here the room within the home-place 
Where you first saw light of day, 
Where you lisped the childish prayers. 
Bending o'er your mother's knee; 
Watchful eyes did here behold you. 
Loving arms did here enfold you; 



45 




Here the room within the home-place 
Where you first saw light of day, 

Where you lisped the childish prayers, 

****** 

"Now I lay me down to sleep." 



46 



Here you learned the sweet petition, 
"Now I lay me down to sleep." 

And of those whose names you wafted 
To the throne of heavenly grace, 
Some are scattered, some departed, 
To their last, long resting place; 
Draw the curtain closely 'round you 
In this blessed holy chamber 
Holding sacred deep communion 
In this place akin to Heaven. 



47 



JUL 2 1913 



